


tulips and willows

by ont



Series: mockingbird [8]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Family Drama, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ont/pseuds/ont
Summary: Zayn and Louis' daughter has some news.





	tulips and willows

KENSINGTON, DECEMBER 20, 2041

“Where’s the other one?”

“Gone,” Desmond says, holding up his lone left shoe.

“What d’you mean it’s _gone_?” Harry says, getting to his feet and roaming around the sitting room, tossing pillows and magazines aside. “You literally -- I _just_ put your shoes on, Des. Not five minutes ago. Where did it go?”

He turns back to Desmond, who’s standing in the middle of the living room wearing a placid expression. He looks like a little cherub with his rosy olive complexion, head of dark curls and button nose.

“What’s happening in here?” Zayn says, wandering in and doing up his cufflinks. He glances between his son and his husband. “Why aren’t we leavin’? I’ve got Yas and Louis blowing me up with texts.”

Cala follows on his heels, in the nice Christmas dress Harry picked out for her.

“Aww, sweets, you look lovely,” he says to her. “Can you come here one moment, though, so I can fix your hair?”

“No, Dad! I like it like this.”

“But you’ve got random pieces loose.”

“I know I do, that’s what all my friends do. I sent Mia a selfie and she said I look cool.”

Harry decides to abandon this battle and turns to Zayn. “I can’t find Des’s shoe?”

Zayn squints at Desmond. “What’ve you done with your shoe, rascal?”

“He dumps them over the fireplace gate, sometimes,” Cala says. “He thinks it’s funny.”

Harry goes over to the fireplace, and sure enough, there it is. He bends over to fetch it then turns back to Desmond, who’s giggling at him.

“This isn’t funny,” Harry says, trying not to laugh himself. He kneels to put the tiny Oxford back onto him. “You’re making me and Daddy late.”

“No,” Desmond wails. “I don’t want it. No shoe, please!”

“I appreciate you saying please, but you can’t walk around with just one shoe.”

“I’m half a heart without you,” Zayn sings, making Harry laugh, and then hands Cala her coat. “Could you go turn the car on and wait in it, kiddo? We might be a minute.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oka-ay...”

“You’re the best.”

“Just pick him up and carry him,” Cala says with an eyeroll, taking it and heading toward the foyer.

Harry struggles with a tearful Desmond for another minute before Zayn finally does come over, pick him up, sling him over his shoulder and hand the stray shoe to Harry.

“Just shove it on him in the car. I thought the terrible twos were over,” Zayn says, patting their son on the back when he starts to hiccup from his crying.

“He’s having a bit of a behavioral regression, lately,” Harry mutters, opening the front door for Zayn and then pressing his hand to it to lock it with his fingerprints. “I dunno. It happens.”

“I think he’s just being a _b-r-a-t,_ ” Zayn whispers as he walks to the car.

Desmond peeks up at Harry over Zayn’s shoulder, pouting, his large eyes still weepy.

“Aww, lovey...” Harry says, immediately softening toward him and reaching out to ruffle his hair. “You can have a nap in the car, alright?”

 

LONDON, DECEMBER 20, 2041

Louis is waiting outside the theater when Zayn and Harry pull up; it's one of his old leftover habits from smoking, to hang around outside of buildings and people-watch before the function gets going.

“Hello hello,” he calls to them, squinting at them through the glare from the low winter sun setting over West London. Zayn waves as he gets out and examines himself in the side mirror.

Cala strides right up to him and holds her arms out for a hug; he obliges, then with mock formality he takes her hand and kisses it. She giggles.

“You look very grown-up,” he tells her. “And very festive.”

“Thank you! Happy Christmas. Oh, and happy almost birthday!”

“Thanks, kiddo. Mims is backstage, if you want to go say hi,” Louis says, and she heads off in that direction. Mia’s currently extremely busy putting final touches on the nativity play she's co-directing, but she always makes time for Cala.

“Hullo,” Harry calls, as he pulls Desmond haphazardly from the car and sets him on his feet. “Sorry we're late…”

“You aren't,” Louis assures them.

He notices Desmond looks mopey and flushed, like he's recently been throwing a tantrum. Harry is tugging him along by the hand, slipping the arm of his sunglasses onto his dress shirt. He's looking quite handsome, suited and tieless, but exhausted.

“Say hi to your uncle Louis,” Zayn instructs Desmond.

“Hi, Uncle Louis,” Desmond chirps.

Louis squats, groaning from a little pop in his lower back, and picks him up. Desmond is impossible not to dote on and fuss over. “Hi, Dessy Wills. Ready to watch a play?”

“Okay,” Desmond says agreeably.

“And,” Louis says, pulling a lollipop out of his pocket, “I've got this for you.”

Desmond takes it happily.

“What do we saaay,” Zayn recites.

“Thank you!”

“Good boy,” Harry says.

Louis covers Des’ ears. “This way he'll keep quiet for at least the next fifteen minutes,” he whispers.

“Ahh,” Harry says, grinning. “You're a genius.”

“Y'know, I try.”

 

*

 

Louis finds Liam and Oliver backstage, apparently fascinated by all the working props and their designs. They two of them are of a height, now; the day Oliver got home from uni for winter holiday, they all played football, and Louis realized just how much stride his son has on him.

At least Mia is still a little slip of a person. She flits around backstage with a headset on, whispering in various actor’s ears and writing things down on a clipboard. Louis really enjoys watching her at work.

Her girlfriend Loren is backstage too, lounging in a chair and smiling up at her.

After a few minutes, Mia spots Louis, then smiles in a sort of nervous fleeting way and comes over to him. She studies him for a moment, looking pensive, and then wraps her arms around him.

“Hey,” Louis says, surprised, and pats her on the back. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s good,” she says, and clears her throat. “I actually have something I really need to tell you.”

There's something familiar in her voice when she says this, although it doesn't click right away. He wonders at first maybe if she and Loren are engaged -- he knows they’ve gotten a lot more serious lately.

“Aren't getting married, are you?” Louis says.

“Noo,” she says, and laughs breathily. “Not exactly.”

“Alright,” he says cheerfully. “Want to tell me after the show, before?”

“Whenever,” Mia says, pulling back.

Loren comes over to them, then. She tosses her dreads back off her shoulders and then slips her hands into her pockets, smiling at Mia. “Hey,” she says; she’s got a thick East London accent, with a warm voice like honey. Mia met her a year ago when she hired Loren to record a radio ad for the theater. “Still need me to grab those things out of your car?”

“Oh, yeah, if you could, babe,” Mia says. She hits a button on her watch and presses her thumb to the screen. “Should be open now.”

“Alright, I'll go take care of that,” Loren says, and leans in to kiss her on the cheek. “Hey, Louis, nice to see you.”

“You too, Lo, happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas! Whole family here?”

“The whole weirdo crew,” he affirms, and she laughs.

“I tried to get me brother to come,” she says. “He was like, ‘A nativity play, really? I’m good.’ Arsehole.”

“She had a hand in casting it,” Mia says, beaming up at her.

“I did!” Loren grins. “I picked our Joseph. _And_ I helped redesign the baby Jesus.”

“Right, I forgot,” Mia says, giggling and touching her arm. “She was like, he’s too stiff, it's throwing the whole vibe off!”

“I mean, it is _Jesus_ ,” Loren says. “Show some respect, y’know? Alright, I'll go get that stuff.”

She waves at them and heads off. Louis studies his daughter, an inkling of understanding dawning in the back of his head. Mia turns and gives him a little smile.

“C’mere,” he says, taking her by the hand and leading her further backstage, into the hallway behind the curtain.

Louis turns to her, hands on her shoulders. “Love.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Mia whispers.

She hasn't called him Daddy since she was loopy from drugs after getting her appendix out two years ago.

He inhales. “Are you, um -- are you pregnant?”

She tears up immediately, then her lip wobbles and she starts nodding hard.

“Oh, baby,” Louis says, his heart speeding up as he pulls her in for a hug. The clipboard gets crushed between them. “God… are we happy, sad, what's the deal?”

“Happy,” she says, sniffling. “Happy. It, um -- of course we didn't plan it, we've only been dating a year, but --”

Louis kisses her on the head and leads her over to a bench, sitting her down and then having a seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, wiping the tears off her cheeks. He’s struggling to wrap his head around this, still; it feels like someone’s yanked the rug out from under him. It’s very surreal, being on the other end of this.

Mia takes her headset off and sets it beside her. “Are you disappointed in me?” she says, sounding small as she looks over at him.

Louis laughs. “God, no. Fuck no. I’m just surprised, love, that’s all.”

“I felt, like, _dumb_ ,” Mia whispers, “‘cos you warned me my whole life, but I just -- I got my implant out, and then there was a short while where I wasn’t on anything, and I tried to be careful, but it’s so hard to tell if you're being safe when you’re both girls…”

“Kid, I get it. You haven’t got to, y’know… it isn’t so much about what happened, it’s about the choices you’re making.”

Mia nods, slowly, her light eyes glowing from the tears. “Well,” she says, and sniffs again. “I’m crazy about Loren, I really am. And we’re, like…”

“Is she happy?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s over the moon about it, she’s been writing down names and stuff.” Mia glances up. “I ought to get back there --”

“Noo, you can take a minute.”

She laces her hands and leans forward, examining her fingers, not looking at him. “We’ve like, been looking at houses, and everything. And she wants to get married. Not right away, but… you know.” Mia lets out a soft laugh. “I really want this. I never questioned it.”

Louis’ heart squeezes with warmth, and tears start rolling out of his eyes as well. He can’t help but think of twenty-five years ago, looking in Simon Cowell’s face and telling him he didn’t want an abortion, knowing he might be throwing it all away and not giving a damn.

“I’m gonna be a granddad,” he says, laughing hoarsely. “Shit. Fuck. Is this my birthday present? In case fifty didn't feel old enough?”

Mia laughs too. “God! I’m sorry! At least I’m nearly twenty-six, y’know? I told Loren, I was like, it’s the family curse.”

“It’s not a curse at all, love. It’s a really wonderful thing.” He pauses. “It’ll change your whole life, though...”

“I know. I know. We’ve been talking so much about that. Loren’s already planning to move away from radio and toward, like, podcasts and freelance voice work, so she can work from home, and I can stay in my job here. I’ve already floated the idea to Patrick about some time off, and he seemed fine with it.”

“How far along are you?”

She dabs at her eye. “I’m going to be all red and puffy when I go back, God. Um, eleven weeks.”

Louis presses his hand to his forehead. This is all quite dizzying for him. “Fuck. Really?”

“Yeah. I figured I ought to start telling everyone soon. When did you start showing?”

“Oh, everyone’s different, Mims.”

“I know, but...”

Louis drops his hand and squints into the distance, trying to remember. “With you, I dunno, around thirteen, fourteen weeks? ‘Cos your dad saw me at… what was it... three months, and then again at four months, and I went from not showing at all to it bein’ totally obvious.”

“Okay.” Her nose twitches. “Um, yeah. Right. I think I need your help telling Dad.”

“Well, Liam’ll be over the moon about it. So I reckon you mean Zayn.”

“Righto.”

Louis inhales deeply. “Let’s -- let me go find them, and let you get back to work, and we’ll watch your play, alright? And we can talk after.” He claps her on the shoulder. “Break a leg, alright? And listen.”

She looks at him, her eyes shining.

“I’d never judge you for this, or be disappointed in you. Alright?”

“I figured not,” Mia murmurs.

“Everyone’ll be happy, I promise. My family’ll be thrilled. And I’m so happy for you, and I’m massively proud of how you’re handlin’ it.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Louis gets choked up again. “C’mere. Give me another hug.” He brings her close and she squeezes him, clinging to him like she’s a little girl again.

“I love you,” he whispers fiercely.

“I love you too.”

“I love your baby already.”

She chokes out a joyful laugh. “Me too. Me too.”

 

*

 

Liam immediately knows something is up when Louis takes his seat in the audience next to him.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Were you crying?”

Louis shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What happened?”

His whisper rises a little in pitch, and Harry glances briefly over, so Louis leans in to say in his ear, “Mia has good news. Don’t say anything to anyone yet.”

“Okay,” Liam whispers. “You cry at good news, Tommo?”

Louis squeezes his arm. “Sometimes.”

Next to them, Zayn sneezes.

“Fuckin’ dusty seats,” he mutters.

“Don’t swear in front of the kids,” Harry says, in a monotone of reflexive habit.

“I don’t swear,” Cala says. “It’s gross.”

“Fuckin’,” Louis repeats, just because he’s bored.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry says drily.

Zayn snorts. “Louis is a fifty-year-old child.”

“What is it we aren’t allowed to say, sorry?” Oliver says cheekily. “Fuckin’? Is it fuckin’?”

Liam shakes his head in barely restrained amusement while Louis laughs. Desmond, meanwhile, is ignoring all of them, engrossed in a game on his tablet.

Loren appears, walking up the aisle to join them. She and Louis make eye contact; she seems to immediately know that he knows, and gives him a sheepish grin. He smiles back at her and mouths _Congratulations._

“Oh, thank God,” Loren mutters aloud as she takes a seat next to him, twisting the program in her hands. Louis chuckles.

“What’s up?” Zayn says, glancing over.

“They, uhh, had a problem with the lights,” she ad-libs cheerfully. “But they fixed it. All good.”

 

*

 

They all end up at Louis and Liam’s after, as they often do. Liam goes off into the kitchen to put tea on for everyone, and the rest of them end up in the sitting room, chatting.

Mia looks nervous; she has her legs folded and keeps bouncing her foot. Zayn and Harry are deeply engaged in telling a long story about how an ideological schism about shrubberies has deeply divided the neighbors on their Kensington street. They keep genially interrupting each other; occasionally Cala provides color commentary.

Mia excuses herself after a few minutes. Louis watches her go, then follows her out.

He finds her and Liam talking in the kitchen as they make the tea. She’s always taken hers the same way he does, after she started secondary and they began their nightly institution of watching crappy TV and having a cuppa.

“Oh, hey, Dad,” Mia says, glancing up.

“Hi there,” he says, smiling at her. “So…”

“So,” she repeats back at him.

Louis inclines his head at Liam. Liam looks between them curiously.

“I sort of wanted to tell Zayn first,” she whispers.

“Tell him what?” Liam says.

Louis brings up Zayn’s name on his watch and taps the intercom button. “Zayn,” he says into his wrist. “Could you come in the kitchen?”

“Dad! I didn’t mean right this second!”

“Love, it isn’t right for me to know and him not to. And you did ask for my help.”

Mia sighs. “I suppose.”

“Just rip the plaster off. Only if you want to, though.”

“No, I do, I do…”

Liam’s eyebrows are in the vicinity of his hairline. “What’s going _on_?” he exclaims.

“Nothing bad,” Louis assures him.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Mia says, patting him on the arm. Liam doesn’t look entirely convinced.

They hear Zayn’s steps in the hall and then he appears, glancing between them. “What’s up?”

“Hi,” Mia says, sugary-sweet. “I have something I want to tell all of you.”

“Louis already knows, whatever it is,” Liam informs Zayn, who rolls his eyes.

“They always do that, don’t they?” he says.

“Every time,” Liam agrees.

Zayn comes over to them and leans against the stove. He looks tired in the less flattering light of the kitchen, where there isn’t a warm hearth flickering. Louis makes a mental note to ask him in private how things are going.

“So,” Mia says again, and looks helplessly at Louis, who nods his encouragement. “I, um. You’re all going to be grandpas?”

There’s a beat of silence while they make sense of this, and then Zayn looks like someone just went upside his head.

“What?” he demands.

Liam gives a shout of joy and corrals Mia in a bear hug; she laughs delightedly.

“Don’t squeeze her,” Louis says anxiously.

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam says. He’s grinning. “That’s amazing! Mia! What, when -- d’you know anything yet, or --”

Zayn sort of aggressively pats the countertop. He's taken his jacket off, and he pushes up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “‘Scuse me,” he says, “hi, hello, _what?”_

Mia clears her throat. “I’m pregnant, Dad.”

“Thanks, I did put that one together.”

“What's the problem?”

“What's the --? To start with, you’re twenty-five --”

“She’s almost twenty-six,” Louis says, at the exact same time as Mia says, “I’m almost twenty-six!”

“That's a totally normal age to have a baby at! And sorry, did you not have me when you were, like, twenty-two?” she adds indignantly.

“Have I ever said that was a good thing?”

Liam, looking sad that the brief excitement is already over, comes around to Louis’ side of the counter and wraps an arm around him, kissing his shoulderblade.

“Grandpas!” he whispers. Louis smiles, grateful for him.

Loren comes into the kitchen, then, with the wary curiosity of someone protectively following their partner around. “Hullo,” she says.

Zayn’s eyes snap to her.

“Oh bollocks,” she sighs. “Are you doing the whole bit _now_ , babe?”

Mia, who has her arms defiantly folded and who is clearly gritting her teeth to avoid crying, turns to her. “Yes!”

Loren puts her hands up. “Alright, alright.”

“Was this planned?” Zayn says to Mia.

“No! And that’s really none of your business! Can you just be happy?”

“It’s not my _job_ to be happy all the time! I mean, look, Yas, I love Loren, we all do --”

“Oh, good,” Loren says quietly. Louis snorts, and she winks at him.

“-- but like --” Zayn glances between everyone. “I mean, let's just get it out in the open, her family’s in the tabloids all the time dragging us and Mia through the dirt --”

“Hang on,” Loren says, putting up a hand, “that was _just_ my mum, who you _know_ I’m estranged from, alright? Haven’t talked to her in ten years. She just wants attention or money or something. I’ve told my aunt not to give her anymore info about me an’ Mia anymore, so, like --”

“How’re you sure she won’t?” Zayn challenges.

“Well, if something I told her in confidence finds its way onto the Internet, then I’ll know, right? And then I'll cut her off, too!” Loren says, sounding defiant. She wraps an arm around Mia’s shoulders.

“And in the meantime,” Zayn retorts, “she’s been damaging me daughter’s reputation, and now potentially me grandkid’s reputation --”

“Dad,” Mia shouts, her face red and her eyes welling over. “I’m not a public figure, alright? People’ve been forgetting about me for the last few years, every day I get less and less interesting, ‘cos they’ve realized I’m not the trainwreck everyone was expecting me to be.”

“And you’re not married,” Zayn says, changing tacks at lightspeed.

“We want to be,” Loren shoots back. “I have every intention of marrying your daughter, mate. I did before the baby, and I still do.”

“Hey, Zayn?” Louis says, coming over to him and taking him by the arm, tugging him along. “Let’s go talk in private, alright?”

Zayn grunts, but goes along with him. As they go out into the hall, Louis hears Liam start quietly asking them questions about the baby, and Mia answering -- sounding happier than a moment ago, he notes with relief.

Once they’re outside in the cold, Zayn heaves a huge sigh.

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” Louis demands of him.

“Oh, sorry!” Zayn shouts back. “Sorry, I forgot, once somebody turns eighteen you’re suddenly their best friend, and not their parent anymore!”

“You’re acting like she’s a teenager! She’s fuckin’ twenty-six!”

“She’s working a low-paid job with shit hours --”

“She’ll never want for money in her life, and we both know that, Zayn. She can work a shit job that’s fulfilling --”

“So, what, ‘cos we’re millionaires, she should make decisions like this ain’t real life? You and I always agreed we didn’t want to fuckin’ do that! That she should feel consequences so she didn’t grow up to be a lazy drugged-out mess!”

“And she _didn’t!_ She has a career --”

“-- which this is gonna throw a wrench in, and that was the other thing we didn't want for her, to be in the public eye all the time, to have her life picked over, her body, her choices, the way we did! And now she's having a baby with somebody whose family is a bunch of drama-mongers who’re gonna keep her in the headlines by constantly givin’ interviews?”

“Loren doesn't have any control over the people she's estranged from, Zayn! It's only her mum, anyway! Take it from me, they give up after a while and just resurface from time to time when they run out of money or whatever. Be relieved Mia’s in a happy long-term relationship --”

“How long-term’s a year?” Zayn demands. “‘Cos I dunno about you, but in me own dating experience, it really ain’t that long!”

“You know what?” Louis hisses. “You're being a _prick!”_

“I think I’m the only one asking any questions!”

“You think I didn’t ask any questions?”

“Didn’t seem like it!”

Zayn walks away, then, and goes to sit in a patio chair, taking deep breaths. Louis tries to tamp down his own anger, and sits across from him.

“I don’t want her to make the same mistakes I did,” Zayn says after a while.

Louis’ face heats up. “Same mistake _I_ made, you mean.”

“It was our accident, Louis.”

“I made the choice to keep her,” Louis snaps.

“We both wanted her.”

“No. Not right away. When I went to tell you, you shouted at me that I was ruinin’ your life, and then you asked me why I didn’t abort her.”

Zayn physically flinches. “I was twenty-two,” he whispers, looking hurt. “I’d just left the band. I was havin’ a breakdown. You hated me. It wasn’t totally out of line, to say those things.”

“D’you know how much it hurt me that you said them?”

“I didn't say it like I wanted you to have an abortion, necessarily! I think it's a normal, academic question to ask in that situation! I was wondering, like, did you keepin’ the baby mean you wanted to get back together or something?”

“Admit it was partly ‘cos you thought it was a mistake.”

“Not a mistake, but sort of an out there decision!”

“Well, and _out there_ for what reasons? Think about that. Her situation’s so much better, but now you’re saying the same sort of shamey shit to her that you did to me?” He swallows over the lump in his throat. “She already made the decision. She loves that baby. I can’t ever explain to you what that feels like, but just understand, she’s not going to change her mind, and hurting her for it is just going to drive her away from you.”

Zayn inhales, then nods slowly.

“And she loves Loren. Be glad they have each other. Be glad she’s got a good head on her shoulders, that she's sane and kind and productive, in spite of everything. It’s not _wrong_ to have a baby unplanned. Everyone's life unfolds differently, you know that.”

Zayn’s jaw is tight. “Look, I’m just forty-nine with a three year-old kid, and I’m about to be a fuckin’ grandfather. And it's coming totally out of nowhere.”

He shrugs. “Shit happens.”

“What if Loren breaks up with her? What if she can't handle it alone?”

“Then she'll come live with me! _Obviously_ , Zayn!”

“You got really lucky with Liam,” Zayn says, and eyes him. “You got really lucky that our baby brought him closer to you and made him never want to leave you. It ain’t always like that.”

Anger stirs in his chest. “Having Mia didn’t _make_ Liam love me.”

Zayn softens. “Oh, Louis, that’s not what I’m saying at all. It brought you together, I mean. And it doesn’t always. Sometimes it drives people apart, like.”

They go quiet. A blackcap coos in the tree overhead as its dead limbs sway in the winter wind.

“Are you and Harry alright?” Louis says.

Zayn looks surprised. “Oh, yeah. No, yeah, I didn’t mean to imply anythin’. We’re just tired. I mean, he’s trying to go back to acting, and I’m working on new music, and the kid’s a handful lately, but, I dunno… so was Cala at that age.”

“Harry spoils him a bit.”

Zayn snorts. “I know. You’d think ‘e’d have learned by now. I mean, everyone spoils that kid, to be fair. Way too cute for his own good.”

“He gets it from his dad,” Louis teases.

Zayn grins. “Which one?”

Louis laughs.

“Look,” he says, after a moment, “it wasn’t just that we were young and she was a surprise, y’know? There were a lot of complicating factors that made it so hard. You and I weren’t even speaking, there was the band, the extreme fame angle, the money, you were… sick, y’know --”

“A bipolar alcoholic,” Zayn says wryly.

“Sick,” Louis repeats in a firm voice. “Having a tough time. And I fell in love with Liam. All that. Mia, in comparison, ‘s’like -- a hundred times more stable. And her and Loren are great together.”

Zayn runs his hand through his hair. “I should apologize to Loren.”

“To both of them.”

“Right. I just want to protect her, is all. You get it. I don’t want to see shit about my daughter in the Daily Mail. I never did.”

“Me neither,” Louis murmurs. “It’s not our fault, though, mate. We did our best.”

He reaches his hand out across the table, and Zayn takes it.

“We’re going to be grandpas,” Louis sings.

A smile finally begins to dawn on Zayn’s face.

“That’s pretty cool,” he admits.

 

*

 

Mia has calmed down by the time they get back; Louis suspects that Liam reassured her. Zayn goes over to her and wordlessly offers a hug; she wraps her arms around him without hesitation.

“I’m sorry, Yas,” he whispers to her. “I was out of line... But no matter how old you get, you’re still that little toddler on the swingset to me, y’know?”

“I know, Dad, I know,” Mia says, and tears start rolling down her cheeks again. “God, why can't I stop crying?”

“You're pregnant, love,” Louis reminds her with a smile, resting his elbows on the countertop. He watches as they cling to each other, Zayn stroking her hair.

When they separate, Zayn swipes her teardrops away with his thumb, then reaches behind her to shake Loren’s hand. Loren laughs him off and comes over, pulling them both in for a hug instead.

“I'm sorry,” he tells her. “I was a prick. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she says, her dark eyes shining. She kisses Mia on the head. “I’m dead excited.”

Mia is beaming.

“DJ Grandpa,” Liam says, as Zayn picks up his tea.

“Christ,” Zayn mutters.

“Desmond’s going to be a four-year-old uncle,” Mia says with a chuckle.

“Oh, fuck,” Liam exclaims. “ _Oliver’s_ going to be an uncle.”

Louis blinks. “Why does _that_ make me feel older than being a grandfather does?”

“I know,” Liam says, laughing. “That really hits it home, for some reason.”

Back in the sitting room, the fire has died down some (Liam goes over to stoke it) and Harry and Oliver are discussing books as Cala beams an interactive hologram up from her watch for Desmond’s entertainment.

“‘Cos we actually didn't study her at all in high school,” Oliver is saying. “My last year was all Wilde and Dickens and Woolf and stuff.”

“Have you read _Play it as it Lays_?” Harry says, swishing his wine around. “I think you'd like that.”

“Lemme pull up next semester’s syllabus,” Oliver says, shaking his watch.

“Hey,” Louis says, taking a seat on the couch. “Mia’s got a bit of an announcement.”

Three of them look up; Desmond is unmoved. He keeps trying to grab the hologram.

Zayn pops down next to Harry, who gives him a curious glance, and Mia and Loren take center stage. Mia keeps fiddling with her tennis bracelet. Loren is all smiles, still.

“So,” she says. “Take it away, Mims.”

Liam stands up from the fire and carefully makes his way over to Louis, stepping over everyone's legs. He meets Louis’ eyes and gives him a little smile; Louis beams back at him, feeling twenty-six years of mutual pride rushing warmly into his chest. When Liam sits, Louis takes his hand and holds it tight.

“Are you getting married?” Cala says.

This makes Desmond look up. He must be just old enough now to understand that marriage is a cause for excitement.

Mia draws a shaky breath. “Um,” she says. “Maybe. Well, yeah. We hope.” She presses a hand to her lower stomach. “But I’m going to have a baby, actually. We're going to, I mean.”

Harry gasps and turns to Zayn, who's smiling with a sort of wary pride.

“No fuckin’ way,” Oliver says, looking gobsmacked. “Really? You're serious?”

Mia nods hard, her eyes shining. Oliver gets up and wraps his arms around her, squeezing her tight. Cala runs over, and they bring her in on the hug.

“Can I be in on this too, actually?” Harry says, coming over and embracing all of them in his large wingspan. “Mia!... That's wonderful, love, congratulations… Congratulations to both of you.”

“I want you to get married,” Cala shouts from inside the scrum. “Like right away!”

Loren chuckles.

“I don't want to have a shotgun wedding,” Mia tells her. “I'll plan it first, alright? We can have it in like a year…”

“I'll help,” Harry says, grinning. “I love weddings. How far along are you?”

“Eleven weeks,” Louis answers for her.

Harry glances over at him and smiles. _Grandpa_ , he mouths wryly at him.

“Oi, your husband’s a grandpa, too,” Louis says back.

“ _Our_ husband?”

“What? _Your_ husband.”

“Sorry, sounded like you said our husband.”

“Maybe you ought to give Freud a ring, Harold.”

Harry laughs heartily at this. Zayn, who's pulled Desmond onto his lap, lifts an eyebrow and says nothing. Louis kisses Liam on the shoulder; Liam snorts amiably.

“I'm a step-grandpa, now,” Harry muses, sitting back down. “D’you think I should do a streak of gray in my hair?”

“Politely requesting you don't,” Zayn says.

“You're mostly gray,” Harry points out, ruffling his hair.

“That's all natural, though, mate. This is God’s plan, right here.”

“Please, like you haven't done your hair every color under the sun.”

“Yeah, but one of us has got to be the young-lookin’ trophy husband, is what I'm saying.”

Mia laughs, untangling herself from her siblings. Oliver is looking rather emotional; she strokes his shoulder and whispers something to him. He nods, then goes over and hugs Loren, who exclaims, “Oli! You're an uncle, you old sod.”

“That's your fault!” he says, laughing and socking her on the shoulder.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Cala says, looking up at her.

Mia smooths Cala’s hair back. “I dunno yet, love.”

“What do you want it to be?”

“You know, I don't think I really care,” she says, shrugging.

“I’d sort of like a boy,” Loren says. “Like to roughhouse with him.”

“‘Scuse me, you can roughhouse with a girl!” Mia says. “Don't be an essentialist.”

“Where d'you get a baby?” Desmond says suddenly, and looks up at Zayn and Harry.

“All sorts of places, love,” Zayn says bracingly, mussing his curly hair.

“Places?” Desmond says. “Like Tesco?”

“Not Tesco, the baby store,” Mia says, and chucks him under the chin with a wink and smile.

“Please don't encourage your dad’s, like, campaign of misinformation,” Harry says, laughing.

“I thought people made babies in their belly buttons,” Louis says, winking at Oliver.

“Fuck off, Dad,” he complains.

“Are you just mad ‘cos we bought you at Tesco?” Liam ribs him.

“I thought I came from Harrods.”

“No, Tesco’s,” Liam says. “The seasonal aisle.”

“Right around Easter, wasn't it, Payno?”

“I think you're right, ‘cos we got him discounted, he came with a basket.”

Oliver very discreetly gives them the finger while Mia and Cala laughs their arses off.

The conversation veers off in a different direction, and Louis drops his head against Liam’s shoulder, thinking. He'd said Easter as a joke, but he did get pregnant with Oliver around then; he remembers Mia doing an egg hunt with his siblings that year, and how exhausted he was the entire day, how he’d prayed he was finally up the spout and that she hadn't brought the flu home from school.

He feels ancient, thinking about that. It feels as if it could have been two months ago. In reality, that baby is in his second year of uni, sitting in front of him in a nice jumper and wearing loafers like a grown man, his brown eyes twinkling as he listens to Loren. And his little girl, running around the garden in a pink party dress and bunny ears, is pregnant and getting married.

“God,” Louis mutters.

“What's up?” Liam says, and wraps an arm around him.

“Feel old.”

“Hey, we’re not that old,” Liam replies, rubbing his back. “Just feels like it some days...”

“Most days.”

“I promise you'll always be twenty to me,” Liam says sweetly.

“You trying to get laid, Payno?”

“That depends, is it working?”

“Maybe…”

Liam laughs.

 

*

 

Around five they all get to arguing congenially about which restaurant they should order takeaway from. Louis’ back starts to spasm, so he takes a Flexeril and lies across the couch like a consumptive Victorian maiden, his head on Liam’s lap.

“We all like Rogelio’s,” Harry says, reaching out to swipe the hologram back a few pages so it's displaying their menu.

“But that's like a steakhouse, the kid’s on a vegetarian thing right now,” Zayn says.

“I can have a salad,” Cala says.

“Their salads are shit, lovey.”

“Since when are you back eating meat, Harry?” Liam says.

“I got anemic when I was pregnant with this one,” Harry says, jerking his thumb at Desmond, who's curled up snoozing on the couch next to them. All the excitement of today has proved too much for him. “So I try to have a steak once in a while.”

“I could be down for steak,” Liam says.

“They cut like butter, these,” Zayn adds.

“I honestly don't even want anything,” Mia puts in. “So I don't care.”

Loren, who's sitting next to her, strokes her hair. “You should eat something.”

“I'll pick at yours.”

“Oh, you will?” Loren says, amused.

“What d’you want, Tommo?” Liam says, scratching his scalp.

“Hmm,” Louis says loopily. The room is warm from the fire, and the Flexeril is making him feel like he's melting into the couch, boneless. “Piz-zaaaa…”

Zayn glances up at him over his reading glasses. “Oi, Louis is fucked.”

“Shouldn't’ve had a beer earlier,” Louis mumbles.

“Dad’s handling becoming a granddad well,” Oliver quips. He's taken over Liam's job of stoking the fire.

“I'm taking it great,” Louis says, closing his eyes. “Love babies. Babies are _greeaaat_.”

“You good, Dad?” Mia says, sounding amused.

“I need more tea,” Louis slurs, getting up.

“I can get it,” Liam says, his hand lingering on Louis’ back.

“No, I'll get it, love, you figure out where we're going to dinner. I'm fine with anything.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at him as he moves his legs aside for Louis to get by.

In the kitchen, he puts the kettle on and leans his elbows on the counter and his face in his hands, groaning. The room is spinning a bit.

“Hey,” Mia says, peeking her head in.

“Hey,” he mutters.

“You alright?”

She comes over to him. Louis nods slowly.

“I'm fine, baby.”

“So… what did you and Dad talk about?”

He clears his throat and looks over at her. “I just told him to get his shit straight, that he can't talk to you like you're a teenager.”

Mia gives him a smile that doesn't quite make it to her eyes.

“He's disappointed,” she says.

“No, no.”

“No, he is, a little bit. That's alright. Are you?”

“Love, I told you I'm not.”

“It would be alright if you are. Just a tad. Just a tiny niggle of disappointment.”

“A little nugget.”

She laughs. “A nougat of disappointment in your baby ice cream.”

“No nougat,” Louis assures her. “I promise. It's just it's…” He heaves a sigh. “I sort of always thought that when you started a family you'd be a little older, more settled, maybe married. ‘Cos that's how I always imagined myself doing it, before... And you want for your kids what you didn't get to have. When you're someone like me, who got all their dreams at the expense of things being normal, that ends up being that I just want things to be as normal for you as possible.”

“You know, my life's been very normal, all things considered.” She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “You haven't failed me at all.”

He squeezes her back. “Can I sort of amend that? I don't mean I regret anything about my life, or you.”

“No, I get it.”

“It's just it was hard,” Louis says, “and I don't want anything in your life to be hard.”

Mia’s eyes twinkle. “I have Loren. Nothing really feels hard with her. I know, like, it won't always be this easy, but it feels solid.”

“Good, good,” he says, feeling some relief. “That's all I ever wanted for you, was to feel like that.”

Mia hesitates, and then says, “Sorry for making you feel old.”

“It's not your fault, love.”

She drums her fingers on the counter. “I am freaking out, a bit.”

“Oh, good,” Louis says, relieved. “I mean, not that it's good, but --”

“No, it's a huge thing, I know.” Her eyes grow sort of round as she stares into middle distance. “It's just it doesn't quite feel real yet. When did it start to feel real to you?”

“When they handed you to me. I’m not even joking.”

“Oh, God.”

“Hey,” Louis says, and she looks at him. “It'll be okay, okay?”

Mia drags in a deep breath. “I know, I know.”

“I promise.”

“I know Dad’s worried about me,” she says. “It's alright if you are too. I know it was really hard for you guys, that you were sad a lot and you and Dad fought, like, constantly --”

Louis laughs. “It wasn't all that bad! Christ, kiddo, no, look -- I had you, I had Liam. Who said I was sad a lot?”

Mia clears her throat. “Liam.”

Louis’ face heats up. “Oh.”

“Just… years ago. Off-handedly.”

“But it stuck with you.”

“Obviously.”

The kettle starts whistling loudly. Louis takes it off the heat.

“I wasn't sad ‘cos I had a baby,” he says. “Well, that was part of it. It's a fairly overwhelming experience, it fucks with your head. But I was sad for a lot of reasons, love. Reasons that aren't even relevant to your life at all.”

Mia laughs. “Right, that's fair.”

“So, you know.”

“Oh,” she says, and presses her hands to her eyes. “I don't want to think about it anymore. I just want dinner. Not really, I'm too nauseous, but I want to sit around and talk with everyone and watch you all eat dinner, I guess.”

“Sounds good.”

Louis extends his hand to her. She takes it with a smile, and for a moment she's that little girl on Easter again.

They walk like that back down the hall, toward the laughing voices coming from the den.

 

*

 

“Did that go well?” Loren says, as they're driving home.

Mia looks over at her in the darkness of the car. She's got her emails displayed on her wrist, and she's flicking through them.

“Well enough,” she says, and they laugh.

“I thought they'd be a bit more sympathetic, considering.”

“I think it made sense that they weren't. Or at least that Zayn wasn't.”

Loren flicks the display away and reaches over, taking her hand. Traffic buzzes by them, the sound of it muffled. Their car is a newer model, and it feels sort of like a spaceship with its roomy interior and round front window.

“He never wants me to be anything like him,” Mia murmurs. “It makes me sad. I mean, stuff he likes about himself is fine. Like being artistic, or Muslim. But anything he can't control, that's all, like -- the worst possible outcome, to pass it on.”

“He just loves you, Mimi.”

“I know. It's hard being first, is all. They take out all their anxiety on me.”

“I know the feeling.” She pauses. “Just about being the firstborn, I mean.”

“Yeah, I'm glad you can relate,” Mia says, smiling at her.

Loren takes her beanie off, tossing it aside, and lies down across her lap. Mia strokes her hair and the side of her face.

“I promise my mother won't hear anything else about us,” Loren says, looking up at her plaintively.

“Oh, baby, I don't care about that…”

“Well, I do, like. It's fuckin’ bollocks.”

“Yeah, but it's not your fault, though.”

“Still.”

“I just don't want you to feel like -- if something leaks again, like --”

“A bad baby daddy?” Loren winks at her.

“Well, yeah! Don't feel like you're a shitty girlfriend or hurting me… you can't help who you're related to.”

“She's convinced you're running some scam on me, apparently. Like someone of such high breeding couldn't be interested in me otherwise.”

Mia squints. “Is she nuts? My dads are some blokes from a boyband. I'm not exactly Princess Charlotte.”

“Just considering I’m a radio DJ who's still got ten thousand pounds in school debt…”

“Wouldn't you be using _me_ , then?”

Loren laughs hard.

“I'm serious!”

“Right, then, gimme all your money,” Loren says, rolling over and kissing Mia on the belly. “You fancy boyband heiress. With your sparkling water drinks and your early-bird takeaway from Michelin star steakhouses. And your fire in the sitting room.”

Mia giggles. “Like, every house in England has a fireplace.”

“Not according to my mother, they don't.”

“Can't wait for tomorrow’s edition of the Daily Mail,” she says, running her thumb over Loren’s cheekbone. “About how I'm actually pregnant by a shipping magnate.”

“And your family's going to have us done in with a staged traffic accident to take the shame off them.”

“Exactly.” Mia laughs, then leans down and kisses her.


End file.
